Chapter4

Cen Zhen's fantasy of "ending it here" was ultimately shattered by a single sentence from Meng Fanchuan.

Even though she had the acting skills praised by her teachers, Cen Zhen couldn’t conceal the embarrassment that was creeping up on her face. She tried to appear natural, like Hua Xun did earlier, treating it as just a joke.

But what relationship did they have to make such jokes?

Moreover, Cen Zhen couldn’t tell if Meng Fanchuan was really trying to fulfill her “wish,” or if he was mocking her for being clueless and naïve.

Her heart gradually calmed down. Since things had reached this point, she paused for a moment and decided to generously extend her hand, “Hello, Young Master Meng.”

Meng Fanchuan’s gaze remained fixed on her face, observing her dazed expression, annoyance, embarrassment, and then finally, calmness, all within a short span of ten seconds.

It was oddly vivid and interesting.

He lazily returned the handshake, “Nice to meet you, Miss Cen.”

The man’s palm was slightly cool but strong. Their brief contact lasted only a second or two before he pulled his hand back.

Cen Zhen couldn’t help but think back to when she first met Shen Zesheng. That man had held her hand for half a minute without letting go. Compared to his frivolity, this Young Master Meng seemed to be more of a gentleman.

“Actually... I just wanted to find some topics to talk to you about.” Cen Zhen still felt the need to explain herself. She wasn’t the kind of person who would try to get close to a wealthy young master, nor was she interested in climbing onto his tree.

Cen Zhen wasn’t sure if Meng Fanchuan understood her meaning. After waiting for a while, she saw him lower his head and smile lightly.

“Then let’s just say I wanted to get to know Miss Cen.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and there was a sense of detached aloofness, as if he was saying it casually, without much sincerity.

But people like him, with his status and background, naturally carried a sense of distance. If he acted too sincere, it would seem fake.

Cen Zhen responded with a polite smile, “You’re too kind, Young Master Meng.”

Just as they were talking, Hua Xun suddenly appeared from behind Cen Zhen. “Miss Cen, you’re here. I was about to take you to have a drink over there.”

Cen Zhen didn’t move. Hua Xun froze for a moment and then turned to see Meng Fanchuan standing on the side.

Hua Xun clicked his tongue, as if understanding something, and patted Meng Fanchuan on the shoulder, “Don’t be so stingy. Just give her a few minutes and let her meet a friend.”

After saying that, as if worried that Meng Fanchuan would disagree, he urged, “My grandfather is here. He was just looking for you over there.”

Meng Fanchuan ignored him, casually taking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. As he walked away, he glanced at Cen Zhen.

“Miss Cen, I assume you’re not in a rush to leave now?”

Cen Zhen: “...”

Cen Zhen knew that Meng Fanchuan had already seen through her intention to leave. Now that the two of them had “met,” there was no need to leave anymore.

She nodded awkwardly and then watched him walk away.

Once they had put some distance between themselves and Meng Fanchuan stood on the other side of the crowd, Cen Zhen’s tense body slowly relaxed.

...So this is the second young master of the mysterious Meng family from Beicheng.

He was the person that Song Wang had been so eager to please and build connections with.

And she, quite unexpectedly, had already crossed paths with him more than once.

Perhaps this is what life’s drama is like—unforeseen, surprising, bringing two people who should have had no connection into each other’s paths.

After adjusting her mood, Cen Zhen turned to Hua Xun and asked, “May I ask, which friend does Young Master Zheng want to introduce me to?”

After graduation, in the past half year, maybe it was just bad luck, but Cen Zhen had encountered too many men who appeared perfect on the outside, but were all insincere behind the scenes. The slightly more decent ones, like Shen Zesheng, would speak in veiled terms; the less decent ones, would directly hand over a room card.

So, when faced with these wealthy young masters, Cen Zhen was usually on high alert.

“A film director,” Hua Xun said, unaware of Cen Zhen’s profession. “Miss Cen is so beautiful. It’s a shame you’re not a movie star.”

“...”

Hua Xun wasn’t lying. His friend was a director who had just returned from studying abroad, with no major works yet, but they were the same age, and shared some common topics. They quickly struck up a conversation.

During the conversation, Cen Zhen’s gaze unintentionally drifted around the hall and landed on Meng Fanchuan, who was talking to an elderly man, likely the older Mr. Hua. Most of the time, Meng Fanchuan was listening, but his lips occasionally curled into a careless smile. His black suit was neat and luxurious, and the jewels on his antique brooch shone brightly under the light, casting vibrant reflections. He stood there, exuding a cold and aloof air, mixed with a sharpness that seemed destined to succeed.

Just then, Song Wang appeared in her line of sight.

He was standing with Zhong Qing, being introduced to Meng Fanchuan and Mr. Zheng. They were talking about something, but Song Wang’s face always carried a respectful smile.

His blue-purple satin suit stood out under the lights, glistening faintly, even overshadowing Meng Fanchuan’s black suit.

But from a distance, Cen Zhen couldn’t feel any star-like aura from him.

She had already felt something was missing when Song Wang wore this suit in the store that day. At this moment, she finally got her answer.

When the two men stood together, Meng Fanchuan had a natural fit with his suit, an integration of body and clothes that was perfect, showing a balance of tension and relaxation that came from within.

Even though he was casually standing there, it was clear that he was the one mastering the clothing, not the other way around.

But Song Wang wasn’t.

He was trying too hard to fit into this suit.

Or perhaps, trying too hard to fit into the circle he longed to reach.

At this moment, Song Wang slightly bowed and raised a glass to Meng Fanchuan. It was at that moment that Cen Zhen saw Meng Fanchuan glance up lightly.

Over the heads of several people, their eyes met.

The countless sparkling crystal glasses around the room reflected light, and this brief gaze became tinged with heat. Cen Zhen instinctively lowered her gaze, just as Meng Fanchuan, one step ahead of her, turned away his gaze, as if that glance had been nothing more than a casual, aimless look.

His action made Cen Zhen relax. She thought to herself that perhaps the “getting to know” earlier was just a playful gesture from these young masters in a boring social gathering. After this, it would be forgotten, with no deeper meaning.

She didn’t need to remain on high alert. After all, not everyone was like Shen Zesheng.

The banquet ended just after 10 PM.

Afterwards, Cen Zhen didn’t run into Meng Fanchuan again. He moved around comfortably in his circle, without forcing Cen Zhen to play the role of a companion. Perhaps, as he said, it was just a casual act of helping her. As tonight’s distinguished guest, he was bound to be surrounded and admired. Whether or not he had a female companion didn’t really matter.

As the guests left, Cen Zhen followed the crowd out.When they reached the first-floor lobby, Song Wang suddenly appeared behind her, walking alongside and talking, "Zhong Qing invited me to sit at the bar she runs. Do you want to come?"

Cen Zhen shook her head. "I'm tired. I want to go home."

"Don’t be like this. Qing Jie is giving me face by inviting me to sit with her. Can you not be so stubborn?"

Cen Zhen stopped walking, turned to look at Song Wang. "If you want to go, I have no objections. But I’ve made it clear—I’m tired and want to go back to rest. Is that okay?"

It was Cen Zhen’s first time attending such a banquet, and she had been interacting with all sorts of people the entire night. She really didn’t have the energy to go to the bar.

But Song Wang still thought Cen Zhen was just being childish because of what had happened earlier. He was about to persuade her again when Zhong Qing, who was already ahead in the crowd, turned around and shouted, "Xiao Song, are you ready to leave?"

Song Wang almost instantly changed his expression and waved at her, "Coming!"

He quickly held back whatever he was about to say, not pressing her further, and reminded Cen Zhen, "Then you head back on your own. Be safe."

Thinking that Cen Zhen would surely get into Song Wang's car after the banquet, Xu Lewei had left the Hua Mansion after seeing her off. It was already late, and calling her back now seemed like an unnecessary hassle.

Cen Zhen decided to take a taxi back on her own. She ordered a ride through a ride-hailing app, only to be informed by the driver that because Hua Mansion didn’t have entry permits for vehicles, the car could only stop 300 meters away at the street corner.

Hua Mansion was a private building protected by the government and was never open to the public, so neither taxis nor ride-hailing cars were allowed to enter.

Cen Zhen had no other choice but to walk toward the exit along the road outside the mansion.

Luxury cars with tightly closed windows passed by one after another. Perhaps some people noticed her on the side of the road, but no one stopped.

Cen Zhen’s lonely figure grew thinner in the wind, looking somewhat pitiful. She had forgotten to bring a coat when she arrived, and now, with the cool night air, she hugged her shoulders with both hands, trying to warm herself as she walked.

300 meters wasn’t very far, but for some reason, Cen Zhen felt inexplicably tired as she walked.

It wasn’t until much later that she realized that maybe the distance between her and Song Wang had started from those 300 meters, and had only grown farther with time.

The flow of traffic gradually decreased. The guests who were supposed to leave had already gone. Cen Zhen looked back, and the bright lights in the mansion had been turned off. The silence after the hustle and bustle seemed even more desolate, and the plane trees lining the roads appeared to have taken on a sense of loneliness.

As Cen Zhen walked, she took out her phone and was about to casually browse to pass the time on the boring walk. Without thinking, she opened the photos she had taken earlier on the terrace.

Looking at them now, she could still feel the awkwardness spilling out from the screen.

She had unconsciously posed in various ways, and in the end, had strangely ended up with a bunch of photos with someone else.

Cen Zhen selected the photos, intending to delete them all, but then hesitated when her finger hovered over the delete button.

Maybe this would be her only chance to visit Hua Mansion in her life, so she decided to keep two photos as a memento of the Romeo-like balcony.

Cen Zhen looked through the photos again and, reluctantly, glanced at Meng Fanchuan.

He was dressed in a black suit, neat and sharp, lazily leaning against something with a cigarette in his hand, emanating a sense of world-weariness, as though he was tired of everything around him.

It was as if he was not too eager to be at the banquet held for him.

In some of the photos, his gaze was directed at Cen Zhen, his lips curled into a faint, unclear smile.

But Cen Zhen guessed that at that moment, he was likely smiling at her, wondering how she ended up with such a ridiculous selfie.

Cen Zhen, feeling regretful in her mind and making a mental note to pay attention next time when going to unfamiliar places, deleted the "group photos" of the two of them. She was about to send the remaining two photos to a friend when she suddenly noticed car lights behind her.

Someone hadn’t left yet? Cen Zhen curiously turned around.

A black Bentley was approaching from a distance, its luxurious body and powerful aura evident, with two crystal headlights that shone so brightly that just glancing at them made Cen Zhen turn her head away.

There had been many luxury cars like this earlier, so nothing special seemed to stand out.

Cen Zhen continued with what she was doing, sending the photos to her friend, asking, "Can you remove the guy in the background for me?"

After sending the message, Cen Zhen realized that the car had actually stopped right next to her.

The window rolled down, and the man inside, his silhouette lazy, leaned against the backseat and gestured toward her with a tilt of his chin, "Get in? I’ll give you a ride."

Cen Zhen hadn’t expected it to be Meng Fanchuan. She quickly pulled her hand back, silently hiding her phone behind her.

It would be impolite to remove him from the photos, but they didn’t know each other, and they never would, so how she handled the photos was entirely up to her.

Perhaps it was the moment of goodwill that he was offering her that made her feel a little guilty.

But even so, maybe it was her deep-rooted stereotype of these rich young masters, Cen Zhen still shook her head, "No, thank you."

Meng Fanchuan withdrew his gaze and didn’t speak again, raising the window.

The Bentley quickly drove off again, and just as Cen Zhen was about to relax, the car suddenly stopped after driving for a few dozen meters.

Cen Zhen stood still, not moving.

The driver got out from the front seat and walked up to her, holding a black suit with exquisite craftsmanship in his hands. "Young Master Meng said it’s chilly at night. He told Miss to wear this so you don’t catch a cold."

Before Cen Zhen could respond, the suit was already handed to her. She immediately recognized it as the jacket Meng Fanchuan had worn that night, and it seemed to still carry the warmth of his body.

Cen Zhen could clearly feel a strong, invasive scent of a man, and the exposed skin on her arm was immediately enveloped by the warmth of the suit.

Her brain wanted to refuse, but her body surrendered to the warmth that was transferred to her skin. Her thoughts were momentarily disrupted for a few seconds, until the expensive brooch on the suit caught the light, and she finally snapped out of it, instinctively saying, "Thank you, but I don’t—"

But she couldn’t finish her sentence.

The surroundings had returned to silence. The wind rustled, dropping a few leaves. Not far away, the black Bentley was almost disappearing into the night.

Cen Zhen held the suit, looking at it, speechless...